


Bad for Business, Good for People

by ScrawlingStories



Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Darrell doesn't quite understand the differences and overlaps of romance and friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feelings Realization, I fell like this is gonna read allegorically or something but that wasn't my intention, I just liked the idea of trying to flip the Friends-Realize-That-They're-Actually-In-Love trope, M/M, Rad Does but he keeps his mouth shut for Obvious Reasons, again. because apparently I keep writing that without meaning to, also Darrell takes a page from Raymond's melodramatic book, hmmm let's see, the Boxmore kids just have such Sad potential okay don't blame me blame Boxman, wow the first Darrad fic I'm so glad that I get to be the one cutting this ribbon lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrawlingStories/pseuds/ScrawlingStories
Summary: They aren’t friends. Theyaren’t.That’s not what this is. Darrell isn’tallowedto have friendships and he knows it—they both know it. They’ve had the discussion many times over, and Rad always reassures him that that’s not what this is. It might seem a little similar at times, but it’s still atotallydifferent thing—promise.





	Bad for Business, Good for People

**Author's Note:**

> _*trumpets back into the fictionsphere and tosses a handful of red & turquoise glitterfetti into the air*_
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> Welcome, my ~~fellow soon-to-be victims~~ friends... to the incredibly-unfairly-undervalued-so-far-in-this-fandom ship that is **Darrad** ~!!-:･ﾟ☆✧ :D
> 
> ......Y'all seriously needa stop sleepin' on this ship tho, because I don't really want to but I WILL float this ship by my DANG self if I really have to!!!! (It's so Good y'all pls TwT just give it a chance~)
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> Anyways~ This fic was kinda-sorta inspired by Quiet by LIGHTS ([but specifically this cover of it lol](https://youtu.be/a7BIYRGv1DI?t=5s)) before it ended up turning way sadder/more emotional than I meant it to?? so???? ;;w;; sorry about that;; I promise it ends happy tho~
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> _Please Enjoy~!! ･ﾟ☆✧:-¯\\_( ᐛ )_/¯-:･ﾟ☆✧_

Sixty-seven.

That’s how many times he and Rad have “hung out” over the past few months. He keeps track of the number, hidden away in its own file inside the confidential folder of his memory bank that Lord Boxdad actually lets him have, tucked between the folder of Sibling Blackmail Material and the ever-growing list of how many times he’s seen a picture of a baby animal so cute that he cries. Not that he actually _needs_ to hide the number in there where Lord Boxdad won't see it, or the fact that there _is_ a number at all, because there’s nothing _wrong_ with these “hang outs,” and yet…

They aren’t friends. They _aren’t._ That’s not what this is. Darrell isn’t _allowed_ friendships, and he knows it—they _both_ know it. They’ve had the discussion many times over, and Rad always reassures him that that’s not what this is. It might seem a little similar at times, but it’s still a different thing, he promises. Rad says they’re something called, “datemates”—well, he’d actually said “boyfriends” at first, but the second half of the word had stressed Darrell out so much that Rad decided to switch it, which was also a perfectly okay thing to do, he assured him as well. Whatever word felt most right; the important thing was finding something that Darrell was comfortable with, and if he worried that people would get the wrong impression from the ‘friend’ part of 'boyfriend,' then they didn’t have to use that word.

So they didn’t. From the twenty-second meetup on, they were “datemates,” which apparently means that they go on these little “hang out” "dates" together, but other than that not much else has changed. At least, not in any way that Darrell has noticed. They still fight almost daily at the Plaza, and all of the heroes still thwart the Boxmore robots' attacks on the regular with no punches pulled. Rad still teases and taunts him the same as always, doesn’t hesitate to smash him up good when they’re fighting, and Darrell still fights tooth and claw to destroy the heroes and their dumb Plaza and everything that it stands for. Really, the only difference is that now those fights aren’t the only time that Darrell gets to see Rad anymore. And he really likes that, because he really likes Rad. Well, as much as a villain such as himself can like a do-gooding hero like Rad; he’s funny, and he doesn’t seem to mind the fact that Darrell is a Boxmore robot when they aren’t fighting, and he’s actually really good at that kissing thing that they end up doing a lot when they hang out—so what’s not to like?

But for as good as his robotic, almost-literally-photographic memory is, Darrell can’t really remember exactly how it all started. He’s decided to blame it on the fact that it was genuinely such a shock to him in the moment that the memory file must’ve fritzed out a little and gotten cleared away in one of his subsequent defrag sessions. Whatever, it’s not really _that_ important, he thinks—and he can always ask Rad if he ever really wants to know the exact details again. But all that really matters is that these meetups have become a regular part of both of their routines, and that each new experience leaves Darrell feeling happier than probably anything else in the world other than his father’s approval.

It’s not exactly easy for him to just go out in public, being a Boxmore robot and all—and he wouldn’t want any curious eyes getting the wrong idea that there’s some kind of _friendship_ going on between him and Rad—but they find ways around the issue, usually going off to find less crowded spaces or waiting until the cover of nightfall. The movie theater is always a fun time because it’s usually dark enough for them to go unnoticed even if they can’t get a spot in the back row, and sometimes Darrell even “borrows” some of Shannon’s disguises to wear if they do decide to go out into a more public scene. The disguises don’t ever really actually disguise much of anything, but the sight of Darrell wearing whatever ridiculous costume he'd chosen for the day is usually enough to make Rad laugh, and anytime Darrell wears lipstick it always ends up smeared around Rad’s face like clown makeup, which is just about the most laugh-inducing sight that Darrell has ever seen himself, so it’s all a win-win situation in the end really.

Today, however, they decide to trek out into the woods, since it’s the first nice day out in a while and no one will be able to see them way out here in the middle of nowhere, so they can be as open and loud and carefree as they please. They’re laughing and talking about whatever random things pop into their heads as they wander aimlessly through the trees—when Darrell suddenly slips off the edge of a muddy embankment, and the only thing that keeps him from flopping face-first into the small stream below is Rad’s hand that has been holding tightly to his own since the moment they'd crossed the treeline. He ends up only soaking his right foot before Rad yanks him back to dry safety again, thankfully, but the water had been just deep enough to splash up and—of course—somehow find a way to leak into that one annoying gap in his knee joint, so now it’s going to be a little difficult to move that leg all the way properly until it’s had enough time to dry out again, but it’s nothing he can’t manage. Definitely the better alternative to falling into the water completely.

It doesn’t take long for Rad to notice the slight limp though, right around the time that they come across a rocky outcropping that overlooks the valley, and they both agree that this is a good place to rest for a while. Rad had packed a backpack with a blanket and some snacks for a picnic, so they settle in over the weather-worn stone and give Darrell’s leg some time to dry in the late-afternoon sunlight, simply relaxing and enjoying each other’s company as they often did. The air is completely still save for an occasional breeze that rustles the leaves above their heads, and all is silent way out here except for the sounds of nature and the tones of some unfamiliar band playing softly from Rad’s phone on the blanket between them.

This is nice. It’s _really_ nice, just like every time they hang out, and it puts a weird, fuzzy feeling that buzzes right at the base of the framework in Darrell’s chest.

He glances over at Rad. The hero is sipping from a juice box as he gazes out at the clouds stretching across the sky, a peacefully contented look settled comfortably across his features. Darrell has a similar juice box in his own hands—one of the ones that Rad had saved from a previous picnic and painstakingly cleaned and refilled with oil so that Darrell could share in the juice box experience. He’d even drawn little oil droplets over the cartoon fruits in permanent marker that somehow still managed to rub off on Darrell’s hands if he held the waxy carton too tightly. It’s basically adorable, and also an incredibly thoughtful gesture on Rad’s part—so much so that it only adds to the ball of static building up in Darrell’s chest.

Thoughtful. Considerate. Charitable.

. . . _Friendly._

Rad catches him staring and smiles, leaning over to give him a brief kiss that Darrell doesn’t even have to think to lean into. Rad’s nose wrinkles as he catches the bitter remnants of the oil on his lips, but it’s a taste he’s long gotten used to by now so he simply washes it down with another sip of his juice and turns back to the sky without a second thought. Darrell’s eye is still on him, that uneasy static only growing larger and stronger still in his chest. He’s so _nice_ to him, even though they’re supposed to be enemies. He’s always doing things like this—planning these hangouts, making him laugh, saving him from tripping and making a complete mess of himself, fixing him up these little oil-juice boxes, kissing him—and for what? Rad says it’s because they’re “dating,” but that still doesn’t feel exactly right to Darrell. In fact, it feels very, _very_ wrong, and with a sinking feeling of melancholy understanding, he thinks he finally knows why.

He’s known for a while, really; he just hasn’t wanted to admit it. Rad always consoles him whenever he’s tried to bring it up before, reassures him that it’s not true—but, deep down… he knows that it is. And he can't keep pretending to ignore it anymore.

“...Rad,” he says softly, refusing to look at him now, “...we’re friends, aren’t we?”

It’s really not so much a question as a mournful acknowledgement of fact, his voice so incredibly small, so completely baring and vulnerable, as he glumly gazes out over the trees stretching out below them. Rad tenses up beside him, slowly lowers the juice box from his lips. He’s quiet for a few moments, and Darrell is terrified that he’s going to deny it again, that they’re going to end up sticking their heads back in the metaphorical sand all over again and go back to ignoring the painfully obvious truth staring them right in the face. But Rad deflates in the next moment, the majority of the tension flowing out of him through a resigned sigh, and Darrell doesn’t miss the look of bittersweet sadness in his periphery as Rad gently lays an apologetic hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, buddy.”

Darrell lets out a long sigh of his own as his shoulders droop, at least relieved to have the truth out in the open at last, and he lets his head fall to rest dejectedly against Rad’s shoulder. “It’s fine,” he says in that same sullen voice, even though he knows that it is, in fact, very much not-fine—at all.

 _No Friendship._ That was essentially his father’s number-one rule, the very philosophy around which he had built his entire business, his career, his _life_ —and the reason that Darrell even existed in the first place. And now here he is, throwing all of that back in his father’s face as he secretly frolics around with Rad in a haze of such giddy, undeniable _friendship,_ and he feels sick _._ He buries his face in Rad’s neck as the first telltale signs of tears start to prickle at the corners of his eye, and Rad’s warm arms are around him in an instant, pulling him close and murmuring an endless string of comforts and soothing sounds even as Darrell clings so tightly around his midsection that it’s probably going to bruise. “I just… I don’t _understand…_ how something this _nice_ can still be something so _bad.._.”

“Neither can I,” Rad consoles softly, running a soothing hand up and down Darrell’s back to combat the subtle tremors now running rampant through his metal framework. His fans have kicked up into overdrive, a few of the inner mechanisms of his body making odd crackling and popping sounds under the sudden stress, and Rad isn’t sure what else to do to calm him down. He hasn’t seen him this worked up since the first time they’d kissed, but that time it had been from an overload of positive emotions. Now it’s the complete opposite end of the scale, and it makes Rad’s heart positively _ache_ to not know what to do to fix it. “It really doesn’t make a lotta sense, does it?”

“Dad’s always said that friendship is something awful...” Darrell spits out, trying to explain it aloud himself for once by recalling all of the things that his father spews out in his rants and fits of rage time and time again, but his processor is lagging so much under his level of distress that it’s difficult to reach much of anything at the moment—but Rad’s hand is still smoothing along his back, slow, rhythmic, grounding, and that’s somehow enough to calm him down enough to function again. “Something to _hate_ —something repulsive, offensive, _despicable,_ _detestable, disgusting-ing-ing—_ _b-b-basically_ every word in the book for _bad._ It’s bad for business; it lowers our graphs, our numbers, our sales—y’know, math stuff. Whatever. It’s so bad, bad, _bad_ for _business._ Always about the _business_ —and nothing but bad, _bad_ , _bad_ - _bad_ - _bad_ — _”_

He sighs harshly and cuts himself off as his voice glitches out again under the sheer force of his bitterly mocking tone, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Rad’s shirt to wipe away the wetness that had collected there. He has to steel himself against the next few words that he knows he needs to say, because they ache with a more intense truth in the deepest depths of his core than even the initial acknowledgement of their friendship had done, and it hurts, but he needs to say them. “But I don’t care anymore. So maybe friendship _is_ bad for business— _maybe it is._ But it’s good for _people_ , I _know_ it, and…” His voice wavers, catches, breaks on the words that stick to his tongue, but he refuses to let them falter completely, “...a-and... I’m not giving mine up. I refuse to. Not if it means giving _you_ up, giving what we _have_ up... because _this_ is basically the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and even if this really is… _f-friendship,_ after all... I c-can’t go back on it now. I just… can’t. ...Not even for Dad.”

He falls silent on a soft hiccup after that, because he doesn’t really have anything else to say. He still feels sick, but it’s slowly ebbing away, along with his tremors even as Rad’s hand slows against his back, and an odd sense of peace begins to settle over him as he finally finds himself able to relax his death-grip around Rad’s midsection. Rad doesn’t seem to have any words for the moment either, but as Darrell’s grip loosens his own arms tighten even further around around him, and now there’s a new wetness on Darrell’s cheeks that isn’t from his own eye, and Rad’s the one shaking with silent tremors and Darrell isn’t sure if any of these things are good or bad but they’re definitely happening and he feels like he might cry again even though the shroud of odd calmness never leaves him.

“Sorry,” Rad says after a long silence of just holding him close, his voice breaking on a small laugh that’s muffled against Darrell’s shoulder, “it’s just… How incredibly selfish is it for me to admit how happy it just made me to hear you say that?”

Darrell blinks, brow furrowing as he shifts back so he can see Rad’s face again. Rad wipes quickly at his eyes like it’s going to make any real difference, and he doesn’t let Darrell pull too far away with a warm hand against the small of his back. “Is that selfish?” Darrell asks softly, because he’s not sure how Rad came to that conclusion when _he’s_  the one that just admitted to making quite possibly the most selfish decision in all of existence ever.

“I mean, kind of?” Rad asks with a shrug and another small, delightedly-bewildered laugh. “Like… _Isn’t_ it? This is like, actually a majorly big deal of a revelation or something for you, right?”

“Well... Yeah,” Darrell admits softly, but he’s honestly trying his best to not think about that right now because—“But we can’t tell Dad!” he quickly adds, feeling his anxiety skyrocket again in the span of an instant and begin to fritz through his circuits at record speed at the mere thought of his father finding out about his blatant disobedience and total disregard for the number-one rule. “N-n-n-not yet, at least… O-or maybe ever, but—I don’t know, I just—I c-c-can’t—I’m not ready to go through whatev _-ev-ver—”_

“ _Relax,”_ Rad soothes gently, running his hands calmingly up and down Darrell’s sides again, and Darrell forces himself to take another steadying breath before his system has the chance to overheat and shut down completely on him. “I didn’t even tell _you_ until today, dude, remember? I don’t think we have to worry about spilling those beans anytime soon… Or, like you said, maybe even ever.” Darrell blushes, equal parts embarrassed and grateful, and Rad grins as he presses up into a brief kiss that’s definitely more smile than anything else. “But seriously. This doesn’t change anything except that we don’t have to hide it from _each other_ anymore.”

Darrell’s smile turns impossibly fonder, fiddling absently with the collar of Rad’s shirt that’s damp with tears and now also smudged with permanent marker. “It does feel good to have it out in the open now,” he admits sheepishly, and Rad raises his eyebrows in amusement.

“You’re such a rebel,” he teases with a playful grin, “going behind your entire lineage’s back, breaking the number one rule like it’s nothing~” A look flashes over Darrell’s face, and Rad drops the teasing tone immediately. “Too soon?”

“M-maybe just a little…” Darrell mutters, offering up a watery smile, and tries his best to ignore the sharp pit of fear that stings low in his core at the thought. Maybe, hopefully, with enough time the feeling will lessen, but he doubts that it will ever fully go away. He’s still loyal to his father, even though he’s essentially spitting on the very foundation of his entire worldview by cementing the existence of this friendship. He’s not sure exactly how the math adds up, but he knows that it all works out somehow because it has to, it _has_ to, _it just_ _has_ _to—_ and when the feeling of Rad’s lips pressing gently against his own breaks him out of his downward spiral again, all of the worries swirling around in his head somehow melt away into unimportance. He can think about them later. And he will. But for now, he hooks his arms around his datemate—his _boyfriend_ —’s neck and kisses him back with an entirely new feeling of happiness bubbling up in his chest.

“We should probably start heading back soon, though,” Rad says after a while, and Darrell reluctantly pulls away from his lips again. The sun is now resting just above the treeline below them, turning the clouds a fiery orange overhead, and it’s probably going to set by the time they trek all the way back to town now. “S’your leg doing any better?”

Darrell blinks and glances down at the leg in question. He’d completely forgotten that it had gotten messed up in the first place, to be honest. He wiggles his toes a bit to check, and the mobility still isn’t great but it’s not nearly as bad as before. This leg will probably still need replaced in his regular maintenance session tonight, or maybe just repaired, but he can definitely make it home without any real issues. “Yeah, it’s good. I guess we should head out.” And before he can even move to stand up Rad’s scooped him up in his arms like he doesn’t weigh an ounce, and Darrell lets out a squeak that’s equal parts surprise and joy as Rad spins them around the blanket a few times. “Dude, stop, stop! I’m gonna lose my oil!” he exclaims with a gleeful giggle, and he only half means it, but Rad still slows to a stop for him anyways.

“Hey,” Rad says when Darrell’s feet find the ground again, and he rests their foreheads together. His eyes are shining and sincere and beautiful, and Darrell thinks that he can drown in the fondness waiting for him there—that maybe he already has. “Thank you, for trusting me with your friendship. I don’t know if that, like, sounds dumb now that I'm actually saying it out loud or anything, but it actually does mean so much to me... that you chose me.”

Darrell can’t help rolling his eye affectionately at the sentiment, but his small smile and rising blush are more than enough to give him away. “Trust me, it _definitely_ means even more to me, probably more than you'll ever be able to actually understand,” he promises, stroking his thumb over Rad’s cheekbone with as much undiluted affection that he can possibly pour into the simple gesture, “so… thank _you_ for being the only person I feel like I can trust with it.”

And he isn’t sure why but saying that makes his face heat up even more for some reason, and then it doesn’t matter because Rad’s kissing him again, and they really, _really_ need to stop doing that already so they can start heading home before it gets too much later, so he giggles and pulls away, slipping easily enough out of Rad’s loosened hold and sticking his tongue out at him. “C’mon, loser; we gotta go.”

Rad rolls his eyes and lets out an exaggerated groan, but he’s smiling as he turns and starts stuffing everything back into the backpack with his levitation beam. Darrell snatches up his half-finished oil-box before Rad can get to it, and he smiles around his straw at the dark smudge that he’d swiped across Rad’s cheek. Rad is blissfully none-the-wiser, beaming at Darrell as he shrugs the backpack over his shoulders again and takes a step towards the trees. “Ready?”

Darrell takes his waiting hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he laces their fingers together. “Ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> ........hmmmmmmmmmmmm yea~ =w=
> 
> idk lol, this was originally supposed to be only half as long and nothing but pure fluff I swear, but then I got really invested in the concept of Darrell having this kind of cognitive dissonance thing going on with the friendship/romance dichotomy and.... well.... yeah~ here we are lol
> 
> .............................I swear I'll write something eventually that's 100% angst-free I promise :'3c
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> Hope you enjoyed it though, and that you'll have a wonderful rest of your day/night~ <3


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